Alien vs Labyrinth AvL
by Touchnotthiscat
Summary: A humorous take on an Alien let loose in the Labyrith. After a long absence I'm back to revisingediting the story, and I'm working on the other chapters.
1. Chapter 1

A humorous and silly take on what would happen if an Alien made its way into the Labyrinth. Thanks much for the comments so far! Alien and Labyrinth characters are not owned by me, I just borrow (and name) some of them.

**AvL**

"Your Highness! Your Highness! It's Co-omfff…" Borax tripped over another goblin's tail and fell onto the floor. "…ming."

A stubby-legged goblin in worn-out leather armor grabbed Borax by his collar and dragged him to his feet. "RUN!!! AIIIEEE!!!" A horrible screech echoed up the hallway, setting their teeth on edge. It was almost worse than their Lord's singing.

Borax followed Codger and several others goblins into the Escher Room and helped them close the heavy door. They slid the bolt in place just as the Thing slammed into it. The creature let out another high-pitched shriek in frustration and clawed at the door. There was a moment of silence, then a loud crash, as if the Thing had rammed against the door. It shook on its hinges. Borax scrambled backwards, breathless and panting.

"Won't take it long to get in 'ere." Codger waddled past Borax as fast as his short legs could carry him. "His Highness ain't 'ere. We need t' get t' the cellar an' then t' th' tunnels." Borax nodded, wringing his hands. Yes, the tunnels. That would take them out of the castle and away from the creature. "'owed that thing get here anyhows?" They hastened their steps as the Thing rammed the door again. There was a definite crunching noise, and Borax didn't think it boded well for the door.

"'ow am I supposed to know? I ain't the pick-up service! I'm just th' boot polisher. 'e showed up in th' throne room, is all I know, so's someone musts 'ave wished 'im away."

"Ooh, his Highness is going t' be angry again – it's dripping slime all over the floor."

Another goblin halted in his tracks, being unable to walk and talk at the same time. "Cor, I likes slime. It feels so good againsts the skin."

Borax cuffed him across the back of the head, knocking his rusty helmet off. "Get a move on, Pickwit, I don't think this slime is worth th' trouble. His Highness can just deal wi' that himself 'cause I ain't cleaning it up!" It was brave words from a goblin whose only thought, second to self-preservation, was how difficult it would be to get slime off his Highness' boots.

The Alien screamed in triumph as the door shattered into a rain of splinters. He was going to have a headache later on, but it would be worth it. It's not like he had opposable thumbs – the prey should have realized that he would have adaptations that would have made opposable thumbs a moot point. His prey just had no common sense, which was why they were prey in the first place. He snarled as he entered the room, and paused as his senses took in the many twists, turns and surfaces that were at odds with each other. The room went in all different directions, but when you can run on walls and ceilings something like that wouldn't make much of a difference. It was one of the advantages of having long gripping claws. He sneered at the pathetic attempt to confuse him. No…he was well and truly irate, and confusing room or no, he was determined to make something pay.

One moment he had his prey cornered and was about to make a triumphant kill, and the next moment some short, smelly bipeds piled on top of him and dragged him away to a completely different room filled with more reeking bipeds. It was positively frustrating, but he had been determined to keep his temper and politely ask to return to his kill before someone else took credit for his work, when one of the stinking bipeds screamed. He hated the screams – earsplitting, shrill and headache-inducing, he'd had no choice but to kill it. That just seemed to set off the other bipeds. It never ended. Just once he wished he could come across a mute prey. Just once.

He shook his head and entered the Chamber of Wayward Stairs. Such advanced technology wouldn't keep him from the hunt for long.

Jareth returned to his throne room in a shower of glitter. An angry crease formed between his brows. "Which one of you picked up that…thing?" He gazed at the mess surrounding him. Garbage, feathers, and a few bodies littered the floor.

A winged twig of a goblin cleared his throat from the chandelier. "Shh! Highness, it might hear you! Please, majesty, I didn't know! I thought it was wished away! Honest I did!"

Jareth looked up at the goblin, his hands behind his back. "Dewitt," he began dangerously. "How could you possibly mistake a man's dying scream for 'I wish the goblins would take you away, right now'?"

"Well," Dewitt hedged, his trembling causing the chandelier to rattle. He knew he'd done a bad thing, but tried to reason with his Highness. "It sounded a'roight to me. I distinctly 'eard the words 'right now'!" He nodded for emphasis. "Please don't be mad at me Highness! It's me first time collectin', I won't do it again, I promise!"

"Oh I'm sure you won't, Dewitt. If you survive this, you'll be on permanent Fairy detail." The goblin let out a wail of protest. Jareth stomped away, addressing the room at large. "What am I supposed to do now, hmmm? I offered the survivors a chance to go through the Labyrinth, and do you know what they did? They laughed at me. Then they shot a hole through my favorite jacket!" He turned so that Dewitt could see it for himself. The collar was ribbed so that it stood up, framing Jareth's slim neck and face. The hole was only inches from Jareth's ear.

"If the woman wasn't shaking so hard I really think she would've shot me!" He rubbed his chin in thought. "And now that creature is running loose in my castle." He turned away and began to pace the floor, but he nearly lost his footing as his boot slid across something slick. "What the blazes is this? Slime? There's slime in my Throne Room? Clean it up! Move, you pathetic hobgoblin!" Jareth paused long enough to ensure that his order was being carried out before he stalked out of the room. "Ruined," he muttered of his slimed boot. "It'll never wash off." He slowed his angry stride as an idea occurred to him. He ran the plan through in his mind, and finding no flaws with it, he set off to put his plan into motion.

Borax and his mates were quickly running out of breath. They thought they had escaped the Thing by using the tunnels that ran underneath the castle, but behind them they could hear the pursuit.

"I thought ye knew th' way outta here," Codger complained between breaths. They had been running for what seemed like hours, and still the Thing was still on their trail. "I swears I'm gonna kill that puss-sack Dewitt if his Highness don't!"

"Shut up! It'll hears you." Borax turned the corner and saw with relief that he was on the right track.

The first False Alarm stared at the ragged goblin group in amazement, but caught himself and intoned his line in his deep booming voice. "BEWARE FOR THE PATH YOU-"

"Shh! Shut up!" Borax repeated as he looked over his shoulder in terror. "Yer gonna give us away, ye dense chunk o' granite!"

Insulted, the False Alarm muttered to himself. "Well, I never! Just trying to do my job. And besides, you're going the wrong way, you're so smart! Hey Nigel, wake up! Get a load of these goblins. They won't get far – they're going the wrong way."

Nigel, another False Alarm, woke with a start. "Eh? What's that, Reuben? Oh. Ahem – THIS IS NOT THE WAY…really. 'Ey, chaps, you're supposed to go the _other_ way."

A third False Alarm Hiram chimed in as the group of goblins passed him by. "What do you expect, Nigel," he asked with an air of superiority. "Goblins have never been known for their intelligence. Or their manners," he added as Borax spat at them in frustration. These blasted pile of pebbles never shut up…worse than the goblin wenches, they were.

Borax ignored their grumbling and continued down the tunnel. "Come on, it's this way." He limped to a ramshackle door in the wall an opened it. The other goblins followed him as they heard a now familiar piercing shriek from behind them.

A lone candle lit itself as they entered, barely illuminating the tiny, bare room. "You idgit!" Codger wailed in despair. "This is an oubliette! We'll be trapped for sure!"

"I knows wot I'm doing!" Borax closed the door behind them, not that it would be much protection from that Thing. He shuffled to the rough wooden bench and tipped it upright. Then, maneuvering it to the other side of the wall, he pulled on a doorknob that had been hidden under the bench. He threw it open, but paused as the other goblins pressed in behind him.

A little worm with a shock of blue hair peered up at them quizzically. "'Allo? Did ya need sommut?" Borax muttered an apology and slammed the door shut.

"'Oo was that, dear?" came a female voice from the other room.

"It was a group of goblins, dear."

"Cor…invite them for tea and cakes, luv."

"I'm sorry Missus. They've gone and left."

"Well! That was quite rude, wasn't it? Leaving without so much as a by your leave."

"I think they took a wrong turn."

"Serves 'em roight for being so boorish, if you ask me!"

"Yes dear, too roight."

Back in the oubliette Codger smacked Borax across the back of his head. "You stupid idgit! You've trapped us, you have!" Pickwit whimpered as he looked over his shoulder, expecting the thing to crash in on them at any moment.

With a grunt, Borax tore the door/bench from the wall, turned it on end, and replaced it. "I just had's it the wrong side up. 'Ere – this is it." Opening the door, he stepped through to a small alcove. With a satisfied grunt, he grasped onto the rotting rungs of a rickety ladder, hoping that it wouldn't fall apart underneath him as he climbed.


	2. Chapter 2

**AvL – Chapter 2**

The Alien's head swayed back and forth as he followed his prey's scent. Not that it was difficult – the prey smelled of unwashed foulness and fear. It was if they had never come in contact with a refreshing slime bath.

Reuben huffed to himself, still upset at the goblins. "Look at this one, Nigel. Here's another bright one, 'eh?" The Alien hissed in surprise. He hadn't sensed any prey close by, but the booming voice was right at his elbow. "What is it – opposite day?" The other False Alarms laughed in appreciation of his joke. "See here, if you want to get to the castle, then you're going the wrong way."

The Alien hissed again, his toothed tongue sticking out to taste the air. The deep baritone voices resonated right though to his chest, and though he was grateful that the voices didn't scream, he knew he was going to have to kill the voices anyway. More prey would survive if they would just shut up, he groused to himself.

"Here! Wot's that? Look at that - he swallowed the Worm!" The False Alarms murmured in horror at the sight of what they thought was a struggling Worm. They liked the Worm – he was always inviting them to tea, and his missus made the most excellent cakes and crumpets. In his deepest voice, Nigel boomed down to the creature that had eaten their friend. 'DON'T GO ON – you vile murderer! Just wait 'til I tell his Majesty! MAKE A RUN FOR IT WORM!"

The Alien had had enough – his bipedal prey was slow enough and smelly enough that he would be able to find them again swiftly enough, but now it was time to kill the voices. Snarling, he jumped at the one with the booming voice, clawing and biting at it.

"AIEE!! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" The False Alarms raised their voices in alarm, demanding that the creature retreat on pain of Horrible Death, though they weren't quite sure how to get Horrible Death down to the tunnels (he was awfully claustrophobic, poor bugger.) In the midst of the bedlam Reuben had the presence of mind to shout for the Cleaners, claiming that there was a bit of debris that needed to be swept away, and soon a distant rumbling could be heard from the other end of the tunnel. The Alien hissed as it turned towards the clattering racket that seemed to be getting closer. He could feel the vibrations in his clawed feet – whatever it was, it was heavy. He would have to find a better place to ambush it than here. With a final sneer to the False Alarms, he ran off.

The False Alarms craned their eyes to get a look at Nigel's now-scarred face; Reuben was almost envious. "Humph. Not bad. I think it makes you look distinguished-like."

Nigel considered that, and then asked, "Yeah? You think so?"

If Reuben could nod, he would have. "Oh yeah. Definitely. Like you got an air of dangerous mystery about you – like John Steed, but with a scar." The other Alarms chimed in agreement. Reuben sniffed with a hint of disappointment. "Wish I had a scar like that."

A loud, rusty scraping noise grew louder as the Alien waited impatiently in the shadows. He was reasonably sure that whatever was rumbling would be large, and so would likely be a prey worth taking on. Not like these reeking, squashed bipeds he'd been chasing around. If the prey was large enough (and cleaner), he just might set about to creating a new colony for himself. Who knows – if he was lucky, the new Queen won't be as much of an idiot as his former Queen was. No self-respecting Queen would've allowed herself to be captured and held in chains for centuries, much less a day. Honestly, he didn't know how she kept her job.

The Alien crouched as the noise came closer, his hopes for a worthy and sizable prey rising, only to be dashed as finally saw the contraption making the clattering noise. It was haphazardly made, and looked nothing so much like a rotating set of tarnished knives plowing through the tunnels. He should've known that a place with talking rocks and stinking bipeds wouldn't have anything worthy of his talents. With a frustrated screech he leapt upon the contraption, clawing and biting at it, hoping against hope that there was _something_ kill-worthy inside it.

Tou and Frou pedaled along the corridor, oblivious to the danger ahead of them. They were in another one of their endless arguments, this time over whether roast crow-meat tasted better with the Mostly Brown Broth or the Almost Black Gravy. It was a very passionate argument, and it was only because they were so dedicated to their Cleaning job that they hadn't come to blows yet. That, and fear that his Highness would send them to clean out the bottom of the Bog of Eternal Stench if they ever stopped pedaling. So it was that they were taken by surprise when the Thing jumped onto their Cleaning Machine with a shriek shrill enough to rival a two-year old's temperamental cries (and they should know, seeing as how his Highness always seemed to have two or three of them crawling around his castle at any one time.)

"Blimey, wot's that thing?" Frou cried in surprise. Tou didn't get much chance to answer, as the Thing grabbed him in its jaws and flung him to the ground. Or would have, if his armor hadn't gotten caught in the Thing's teeth.

"AAAIIEE!! 'Elp! 'elp, e's got me!" The Alien shook his head, trying to dislodge the goblin from his teeth. It tasted horrible! The armor was coated with some kind of foul tasting fungus, and it was reacting to his own mouth-slime. Within seconds the Alien's mouth was foaming terribly. And it itched.

Frou hesitated, torn between his fear of reprisal if he stopped pedaling the now broken machine and the need to help Tou. All that waving about wouldn't be good for Tou's back – if he wasn't arguing about food or which tunnel to Clean next, he was complaining about his back. Pity won out, and Frou jumped…well, fell…off the Cleaning Machine.

"'Ey mate, you just can't go chomping on a goblin loik that wi'out warning. It just ain't done." Frou grabbed Tou's arms and pulled while the Thing placed a hind foot against the squirming Tou and pushed. "You got's to gives us a fair chance you know," he continued.

"Come on, pull harder," Tou complained. "Ow ow! Not that hard, you sack of gravy! Watch out for my back."

Frou ignored him, and continued to lecture the Thing. It was obvious no one told the Thing the rules, and he was feeling very put out that it was left to him to explain things to him. "Jumpin' out at us loik that is unfair – what if there was others ahead of you? We got a lot of tunnels to clean, and I'm willin' t' bet that you didn't even fill out the Goblin Form 26A, subsection 17 ½, paragraph 3 didja? You got to wait at least a week until you gets the forms back. We're just the Cleaners you know, we don't make the rules."

With a final pull, Tou popped out of the Things mouth. He fell heavily on Frou, who shoved him off with a grunt. Tou sat up and gazed forlornly at his ruined armor. "Look at that! Do you know 'ow long it took me to grow that fungus? Two years! Cor, waits until I tells His Majesty!"

The Alien wasn't listening, however. He was scraping his face against the stone wall, trying to scour the itchy foam from his jaws. The slimy foam was beginning to discolor the damp stones. Tou scrambled to feet, angry. "'Ere now – stop that! I'm not going to clean that up!"

Frou, still lying on the ground, scratched his head. "Ey, Tou. There's summat different about ya."

Tou paused, then slowly nodded with a grin. Cautiously he bent his knees. "'Ey, you're roight. My back! It don't hurts no more!" He bent to the side just to make sure, but no…he didn't get that painful twinge he usually got. With a laugh he slapped the Thing in a show of grateful camaraderie. "Thanks mate! It feels much better now!" He turned his friend Frou, and said with an air of authority, "I knows wot this fella is! 'E's one o' them traveling choreographers!"

Frou stood up and regarded the Thing doubtfully. "You mean 'chiropractors'?" Tou waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, maybe that too. Listen fella, whatever you wants I'll do it for ya. I mean it, just says the word and I'll getcha!"

A loud crash and the rumble of falling debris stopped him from launching into a list of things he'd do for his newfound friend. The tunnel filled with dust, and Frou cringed. His Majesty wasn't going to like this. The Cleaning Machine had continued on its way, but without guidance from the Cleaners it had drilled its way through the stone wall.

Frou looked at Tou with fear-filled eyes. "I'm not cleaning that up," he said as bright yellow sunlight flooded the tunnel.

The Alien, desperate now to escape these nasty, confusing bipeds that made his mouth itch took his chance and ran out into the light.


End file.
